


Ease

by moonlight_writes



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Arthur is healthy, Developing Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers for RDR2, and that's what matters, but he's healthy, it's what I do best, still sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_writes/pseuds/moonlight_writes
Summary: Bad dreams were something that John had learned to ignore over the years but he couldn't find it in himself to ignore this one.OrIn which the events of Red Dead Redemption 2 are merely just a bad dream that John Marston has.





	Ease

**Author's Note:**

> (just a small warning that, obviously, a few things are different in this fic which you will see as you read it)
> 
> It's finally here! After days and days of thinking, I finally thought up something for a Morston fic. 
> 
> I love these two so much and I just want them to be happy. I also wanted to give Arthur a better life than he got in the game because that shit h u r t.
> 
> John and Abigail did have Jack. However, they aren't together.
> 
> Tumblr: vintage-moonlight  
> (i've decided to take requests, which is something I've never done so... I'm not quite comfortable with smut but I'll go as far as I can-)

Sharp, cool air filled John's lungs as he took in a sudden inhale, his brown eyes snapping open to stare wide eyed into the darkness surrounding him. He found himself holding in the air as his eyes adjusted and only then did he slowly exhale, the realization setting in.

It was only a dream.

His eyes fell closed once more, his right hand raising to roughly rub at his face. Threading his calloused fingers into his hair, he gripped onto the dark strands before releasing them, a nearly-silent sigh flooding through his chapped lips.

_"We ain't both gonna make it. Go... now."_

John shook the image of Arthur's pale, sunken-in face and bloodshot eyes from his head, his eyes opening to stare at the top of his tent.

_"I'll hold them off." Was a hat supposed to feel that heavy?_

His hands gripped at his blanket, his knuckles momentarily turning white.

_"It would mean a lot to me... please." The weight of the other man's hand on his shoulder felt..._

"Too damn real..." John muttered under his breath as he pushed himself to sit up, his elbows digging uncomfortably into the cot below him.

A soft snore came from his right and he looked over, squinting his eyes a bit as if it'd help him see better. Jack was fast asleep on the cot adjacent to John's own, the boy's small body covered in not one but two blankets which were pulled up until only the top of the kid's head was visible. He'd wanted to bunk with his father for the night. John didn't mind. Abigail needed a break from the kid anyway.

John swung his legs over the edge of his cot, his bare feet gently bumping into his boots. John didn't think twice before shoving his feet into them and standing. He needed to to get some air.

Moving the flap of the tent aside, John stepped out and was immediately met with cold rain landing on his head, shoulders and exposed forearms. It had felt nice at first but due to the cold air around him, small goosebumps began to arise on his skin and a small shiver racked his body. He shook his arms a bit as he looked out at the darkened camp. It was silent, besides the sound of the rain hitting the ground and John took in a breath, the smell of wet soil meeting his nose. 

His first thought was to hop on his horse and go for a ride as it was always a way to clear his head quickly. Though, the thought quickly vanished as he spotted a dim light in his peripheral vision. 

Arthur's setup was about five feet to the left of John's tent. The older man was sat up on his cot, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. That damned journal of his was open on his lap and the pencil in his hand was moving back and forth on the page at a steady pace. The lamp sitting on the table adjacent to his cot was dim, only bright enough to lighten up the area around him. 

Without much thought, John walked the short distance, the dull sound of his boots hitting the earth alerting Arthur of his presence. The latter raised his head, his eyes leaving his journal for the first time in probably an hour.

"What're you doin' awake?" His voice is gruff but quiet, not wanting to wake anyone; especially Jack. The kid would never go back to sleep and then John would have to listen to Abigail nag about how their son was cranky because he didn't get enough sleep.

If that happened, at least he'd be able to pin the blame on Arthur.

With a shrug of a shoulder, John replied, "Can't sleep." The last thing he needed is the older man teasing him about a bad dream. Arthur studied him for a moment, his green eyes looking over his face before squinting. "You're an awful liar, Marston. I've known you far too long to be able to tell."

John opened his mouth to argue but it snapped shut as he realized it was true. He was a god awful liar... most of the time.

"And would you get outta the damn rain? The last thing we need is you gettin' sick." Arthur said, a small grunt coming from the back of his throat as he sat up from his comfortable position. His pencil fell from between his fingers and rolled to the center of the journal as Arthur flipped it shut before setting the worn out book aside. He then looked at John expectantly.

The twenty-six year old nearly rolled his eyes as he stepped under the cover of the fabric that protected Arthur's things from most elements. He moved to sit on the cot next to Arthur, blatantly ignoring the older man's grumbling about getting his blanket wet. John may or may not have wiped his hands on the blanket just to spite him. Cold water dripped from his hair and landed annoyingly on his arms. He watched the droplets for nearly a full minute before asking, "You have bad dreams?"

Arthur scoffed faintly and John couldn't tell whether or not it was because the outlaw thought he was being silly."'Course," Arthur muttered, reaching to grab a pack of cigarettes from the table next to his bed. John took the one that was offered and watched as Arthur took one for himself, tossing the pack back onto the table. "That why you're awake?

"Yeah," John stopped speaking to place the cigarette between his dry lips as Arthur lit the end with a match. The tip of the cigarette glowed a bright orange as he inhaled the smoke and he found himself holding it in for a few seconds to avoid having to talk about the  ~~dream~~ nightmare he had woken from. As he exhaled slowly, he could feel Arthur's expectant gaze on the side of his face. He tried to ignore the staring but the other mans gaze felt as if it was burning a hole in his skin and he inevitably broke. "Would you quite starin'?"

Before he could begin to feel bad about snapping at Arthur, the latter spoke. "Must'a been bad?" He guessed and John could only let out a quiet huff. "If you only knew." Is all he said before taking another drag from the cigarette between his fingers. 

The silence between them had to have lasted a solid two minutes before Arthur asked, "...Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." John answered and it was left at that.

 

* * *

 

The two sat together in silence for almost an hour. Sometime during that hour Arthur had gotten up and wandered away for a minute or two, only to come back with two bottles of whiskey and wordlessly handed one of them to the twenty-six year old. John took it without a complaint.

The rain had also stopped during the hour which allowed the silence between them to become almost deafening. And somehow the two men had moved closer together as the time passed, their shoulders just barely touching.

John was still trying to figure out how that had happened.

The silence didn't seem to bother Arthur, as the man had began to occupy himself by cleaning one of his many weapons. An oil and grease stained rag was held in his left hand while a revolver was held in his right. A faint metallic noise reached John's ears as Arthur flipped the gun over to wipe at the other side. 

As he silently observed the movements of Arthur's hands, John contemplated on whether or not he should bring up the too-real nightmare he had witnessed in his state of unconsciousness. He'd known he'd said that he didn't want to talk about it but it was buggin' him. Much more than he was willing to admit.

After a minute or two of thought, he decided.

Taking a large swig of from the bottle in his hand, words began tumbling out of his mouth before he could fully think about it, "You know you died?"

The circular motion Arthur was using to clean the barrel of the revolver had paused, green eyes glancing at John confusedly. Before he could question John's sanity, the latter cut him off.

"In my dream," He muttered quietly, raising the bottle up to his lips once more. After swallowing a mouthful of the strong alcohol, he continued. "You got sick. You got tu-tubercu- _whatever_ the hell it is, and you died. An' so did Sean, Lenny, Kieran, Hosea, a-and Molly and Grimshaw." His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he gripped the neck of the bottle tightly. "Dutch went crazy, like... lost his damn head. Started pointin' fingers at us, saying we betrayed 'im. Oh, but get this-" He raised a finger as he swallowed thickly. "It was Micah, goddamned Micah feedin' information to these detecti-"

"John-" Arthur tried to speak, his face showing more and more confusion as John's ramblings went on.

"-left you to die alone on a goddamn mountain-"

"John, would you shut the he-"

"-was willing to let Jack become an orpha-"

"Marston!"

John was quick to shut up and silence engulfed them once more. Arthur glanced around to be sure no-one had woken up from his sudden outburst and once he was sure that the coast was clear, he turned to look at John. His eyebrows were furrowed, showing obvious confusion and maybe even a bit of concern. "You're tellin' me all of that happened... in a damn _dream_?"

He seemed skeptical. John didn't blame him, even _he_ knew he sounded nuts. 

"I ain't crazy-"

Arthur snorted quietly, "I doubt that." The small smirk on his face told John that he was only joking. John let out a sigh and went to take another drink only for the bottle to be taken from him. He made a noise of protest as Arthur placed the nearly-empty bottle on the table. "Think you've had enough."

Instead of stubbornly arguing over a bottle of whiskey, he found himself leaning into Arthur's right bicep tiredly. His temple made contact with the thirty-six year old's shoulder and he sighed, his eyes closing. "It was too real." He muttered under his breath, subconsciously breathing in the familiar scent from the shirt Arthur was wearing.

He felt a weight on his knee, followed by a faint squeeze and the simple gesture was enough to make John feel at **ease**.

A good ten minutes must've passed before a thought occurred to John. "...Ain't you supposed to go collect a debt for Strauss tomorrow?" John questioned quietly, drowsiness beginning to creep up on him. "The uh... Downes feller?"

Arthur moved to prop his feet on the table, being mindful of the bottle of booze, "Stopped by their ranch earlier today. Turns out the feller was real sick, died a couple days ago." He said, a tired-sounding sigh slipping through his lips and an unexplained sense of relief rushed over John.

Something about the Downes man dying relieved him and seemed just a little morbid but he couldn't help it.

"Why were you wonderin'?" Arthur asked, returning to his task of cleaning the weapon in his hand. John began mindlessly watching the repetitive movements once again, blinking slowly. "...Wanted to know if you wanna go on a ride, s'all," He muttered. "Drivin' me nuts jus' sittin' around here, doin' nothin'." His words were getting more and more jumbled and slurred as he spoke. He shouldn't have drank so much.

Arthur shoulders shook with his silent chuckling, causing John to grumble quietly, his head jerking around the slightest bit. "Sure, Marston."

Silence engulfed the two men once more, allowing the tiredness to set in. John's eyes drooped and he tried to fight it as best he could. Though, the alcohol in his system made it nearly impossible. After a minute or two of fighting the inevitable, John cleared his throat and sat up with a quiet mumble of, "'M gonna go to bed."

As John began stumbling towards his tent, Arthur stopped him. "You know none of that's gonna happen, right? Ain't no way it could. Especially all that Micah business you was ramblin' about."

John glanced back at him, giving the man a nod before disappearing into his tent. The simple actions made his stomach feel queasy, the booze threatening to crawl back up his throat.

Of course he knew that, he'd be dumb not to. He knew that no one would die. He knew that Arthur wouldn't get sick. He knew that Dutch wouldn't _completely_  lose his mind.

He also knew that Micah wouldn't weasel his way into Dutch's head.

Because, after all, Micah Bell had died with a noose around his neck in Strawberry.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I hope this fic (at least) met your lowest expectations ! ! This was just a "warm up", i guess? to kind of get a feel for the characters. I'll get better the more I write, promise!
> 
> I wanted to ask y'all something. I have an OC that I have for almost every fandom I'm in (if you're interesting in Fallout 4, he's in most of my f4 fics). His name is Jonas Lowell (portrayed by Colin O'Donoghue, only with black hair and green eyes). He's pan and he has one hell of a personality, too. Would you guys be interested in some rdr fics with him in them? 
> 
> Wanna request something? Or just chat about RDR? Or possibly just be friends? Then hit me up on Tumblr! I'm always active so I'll reply pretty fast.
> 
> Tumblr: vintage-moonlight


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